


Peaceful Fields of Milk and Titties

by ThunderCant



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Breastfeeding, Game: Resident Evil 2, Hair-pulling, Healing Sex, Lactation Kink, Large Cock, M/M, Male Lactation, Nipple Play, Overstimulation, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, belly bulge, cumflation, monster fucking, of a sort anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 03:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18513070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderCant/pseuds/ThunderCant
Summary: Leon's trying very hard to focus on things like 'not dying' and 'having a pulse', but his dick has other plans. Also, he started lactating at some point. That's definitely not supposed to happen.And the monsters are on him like flies on shit.





	Peaceful Fields of Milk and Titties

**Author's Note:**

> And so God did look upon his creation (me) and said, "oh fuck, please stop writing lactation kink, please write something else you horny git" 
> 
> and i did say, "lmao no"
> 
> im so sorry marvin

Raccoon City was a fucking nightmare and Leon’s idiot brain had decided, somehow, that it was quite sexy.

He wasn’t sure anyone could blame him; the human mind and body had all sorts of weird ways to cope with stressful situations- the academy had had a whole class dedicated to fear responses and de-escalating situations. ‘ _It’s nothing to be ashamed of,’_ The instructor had said, _‘erections and other signs of sexual arousal are reasonably common as a response to stressful situations.’_

Admittedly, Leon was sure she hadn’t been talking about the way his gaze had lingered on the long strings of drool threatening to drop into his mouth or a zombie’s bony, scrambling fingers tickling up his prone throat. She hadn’t been thinking of the teeth barely scraping his neck or a corpse rutting on his leg. She definitely hadn’t been thinking of men that were mountains, choking Leon out while the probing, pressing tongue of a malformed horror crept up his leg-

No, she couldn’t have been thinking of those things because she was a normal human woman who didn’t want to spread her legs for metaphorical monsters, let alone literal ones. Leon, on the other hand, had come face to face with some night of the living dead shit and thought, “wow, that’s kinda hot.”

It was inconvenient. His not entirely fear boner rubbed against his boxers as he crept slowly through the RPD, worrying at his lip in the hope it would keep him from crying out. Even if it was just a little bit hot to think about how the monsters held him down, he didn’t quite want to die yet.

Though that was sort of odd, in and of itself. Plenty of zombies had pinned him down. Plenty more had bitten him, leaving an aching, purple string up his neck- but none had broken the thin skin between their teeth and his pulse.

Leon shivered. No time to focus on what _that_ meant, not when he would have to save his fantasies until _after_ he left Raccoon City alive. Regardless of his dick’s thoughts, staying alive was the top priority.

Right. There was a corridor of corpses in front of him, ready and waiting to stir. Behind him he could hear heavy steps, slow and searching.

The sensible thing to do would be going forth, knife out, and slowly cutting the tendons that would let the zombies move. It would stop the Tyrant from coming down on him, and it would let him save ammo. He just had to go slowly.

Step. Step. At the first groan of a corpse, he drove his knife into its knee and rendered it useless, pulling off the grasping hands and firmly directing his thoughts away from how they’d feel on his dick. Another corpse, another stab, another fantasy- what if he failed at making them immobile? What if they managed to rise up, when he was crouched down to cut one of their fellows down, to pin their weight onto his back and crush him against his target? Teasing his throat with their cold, clammy mouths, forcing him to rut like a dog?

Finally clamping down on his exposed neck when he came inside his pants, cries drawing the tyrant.

Leon shook his head. His cock was rock-hard, rubbing uncomfortably against his boxers. God, that was going to be a pain to clean up- he really didn’t want to go to the men’s room in the middle of a goddamn zombie nightmare, cleaning up cum like he was fourteen all over again, hiding his ungodly habits from his mother.

He shivered, driving his knife through a corpse’s neck, pleased that it didn’t get up. Christ, he was going to need some therapy after this.

The main hall was in sight, and with it there would be ammo. Boring, completely non-sexy ammo, to hopefully ease some tension off his dick. The zombies didn’t like the main hall for some reason- and Mr. X’s footsteps sounded distant enough. The only company he’d have would be Marvin.

Leon didn’t know if he wanted Marvin to be alive or dead. He’d been in terrible shape the last time they met. Death would be kinder than living for much longer with a hole in his guts, festering in the heavy air…but when he died…

Leon shook his head and gritted his teeth. At least the thought of _his comrades dying_ was enough to make his cock soften, if only slightly. God damn, it had absolutely bottom of the barrel standards. Fucking psychology.

The main hall was, mercifully, _mostly_ free of blood, and zombies. Leon could see footprints from one side to the other- Mr. X, most likely- but other than that worryingly fresh development, it was quiet.

Too quiet. Leon’s heart froze as he crept, quietly, down the stairs- hoping against hope. Maybe Marvin was immune in some way. Maybe some divine intervention had saved him and helped him get to hospital for his wounds, where he could recover and get the hell out of Raccoon City.

Maybe Leon was going to wake up in his shitty apartment, hungover as hell with the world’s most shameful boner.

No such luck. The shambling thing that used to be Marvin crashed into him with gnashing teeth and clumsy fingers, drawing bloody trails on Leon’s face. It was all desperation and suffering, clawing at him, like Marvin wanted to tear off his eyelids and eat his eyes. Admire the jut of his jaw and cheekbones as the skin came away.

Leon smashed an elbow into his face. Congealed blood and spittle flew out of his slack mouth. Marvin’s hands were still grasping. His fingers shone in the low light, trembling, spasming- there was nothing in Marvin’s empty, pale eyes.

It was just _hunger_. Overpowering desire for flesh.

Leon was frozen. His knife was still at the ready, gun in reach, and none of it mattered because Marvin had been twisted and turned into a manifestation of gluttony. Marvin, who had helped him even when he was hurt. Refused to keep a weapon for himself. And in return, he’d been turned into an awful caricature of himself.

Marvin’s corpse flung itself into Leon, knocking him out of his reverie and onto the floor. He stank of rot, one hand pulling his hair to expose Leon’s neck. He scrambled beneath him, flailing arms- trying to drive a knife into Marvin’s chest, his neck, somewhere that would give him a second to get off.

But dead weight was harder to shift than living, and Marvin was very, very dead. Leon chanted it in his head; this was not Marvin Branagh, it was another zombie, pinning him down, and it wanted his flesh.

His boner didn’t listen. The struggling had woken it up again, curious, now that there was new friction. Marvin didn’t pace himself like Leon would, the rare times he got to go dancing and grind against someone. Mostly because he was a fucking zombie. But that strange, frantic pace, combined with Leon’s own wild writhing was making him rock hard.

At least this was a physical thing, thought the sensible part of his brain that wasn’t occupied with not getting eaten. A perfectly normal reaction to friction on the genitals.

If only it weren’t attached to Marvin’s corpse, that had managed to get his mouth close to Leon’s neck. His breath was lukewarm and sticky on Leon’s thin skin, highlighting all the bruises- made worse by Marvin’s sharp tugging. He wanted his throat. Of course he did. It was the only piece of skin readily available, and the fact that Leon’s cock was _delighted_ by the attention had absolutely no bearing on the situation. It wasn’t like a zombie had the coordination to tear his clothes.

It wasn’t even the tiniest bit _sexy_.

Leon yelped as Marvin managed to take advantage of his distraction and _pulled_ , wrenching his head back and finally letting him at his prize. Leon felt his heart hammer against his chest as Marvin mouthed over the bruises, tongue cold and useless. Leon could feel his teeth brush against it occasionally, like he was taking the time to tease Leon- when would he bite? How? Short, sharp nicks to make sure he could get the finest cut? A deep bite that would drive the infection inside him, turn him into something just like Marvin- an ever-starving glutton.

If he got out of Raccoon City, Leon was sure this little nightmare was going to take centre stage in all his fantasies. Hell, even if he _didn’t_ , the inevitable unconscious dreams between life and death would be nothing _but_ him being bitten and mouthed at, while his hips canted against Marvin’s leg.

Oh, that had happened at some point. He was humping Marvin’s leg, even as Marvin’s teeth teased more and more- little pinpricks of pressure making hot, red marks into his neck. God, and Leon thought he’d been bad as a teenager. That was nothing compared to now, where he was the protagonist of some sort of ironic story about hell. Dick hard, undead monstrosity resembling someone he should have respected, all brought low in the nightmare that was Raccoon City.

He was sure that if he tried to walk into a church after _this,_ he’d catch fire. Zombie assisted masturbation had to be some sort of sin.

Leon groaned. His whole body felt tight and hot, sweat cutting cold trails over his skin, diluting the dried blood, staining his uniform. Marvin’s drool was warmer, not that it mattered- the chill of death was all freezing compared to the warmth of the living.

His hand was wandering down to Leon’s vest. Scratching at it, as though there was something under there that Marvin wanted- growling and grunting when his hands couldn’t grasp the clasps properly. Leon was frozen again, totally still. His neck was cold and sore, now that Marvin had pulled away, letting the night air hit the wet patch.

He was still hard, boxers wet from precum. It tented uncomfortably against his pants, and Leon was almost- _almost_ \- tempted to let his fly down for some relief.

Marvin snarled, unable to get his prize, and returned to Leon’s neck. This time he was biting at the fabric on his shirt, teeth getting closer and closer to drawing blood- infecting him, permanently-

Fear and arousal curled into his belly. The zombie was getting agitated, but it hadn’t killed him. Not yet. He was trying to get at something of Leon’s, something under the vest. And maybe…just maybe, if he managed to get Marvin’s neck at a better angle…hovering over his chest…

Maybe he could put him down for good.

There was no time to wait. Leon plucked the buckles at his Kevlar off, slowly shifting it until Marvin realised. As soon as he did, the Kevlar got thrown aside, shirt tearing open (and god he hoped the buttons were intact). Shock shot through him, the unnatural touch of a corpse icy on his chest. Marvin was staring at him.

His eyes were still cloudy, but there was something else there now. Not something human, god no- but _something_ more than just gnawing hunger, barely held off by what little bit of life might be left inside what had been Marvin.

Leon wasn’t sure if he still wanted to think that when the zombie’s head collapsed onto his chest and closed its mouth around his nipple.

Well.

That was not what he expected.

The knife was still in his hand, which was still uselessly by his head, because Leon’s brain had short circuited. Sure, the idiotic part him had been happily conjuring up ways everything in the RPD could turn sexy, but that was all it was- conjurings, thoughts, an imagination running wild on adrenaline and fear. It wasn’t meant to actually happen.

But if there wasn’t a zombie sucking on his tits then he didn’t know what _would_ be sucking on his tits, and that chilly mouth rubbing its tongue on his nipples was certainly vivid for a dream.

He sliced his finger on the edge of the knife.

It bled and stung. Leon was not dreaming.

Reality hit him like a sack of bricks.

A sort of keening noise bubbled up from his throat and finally came out as a choked scream. A mistake if ever there was one. What had been steady, distant footsteps suddenly stopped and started to thunder closer to the main hall, where Leon was shirtless and getting his nipples toyed with by a _real fucking zombie_.

Time was running out but Leon couldn’t move. He was petrified as the slow lathe of a tongue, clumsy and reckless, coaxed it into hardness. He could almost feel his nipples swelling. Everything was turning sensitive, exposed to the air as it was, each thumping step reverberating in his head. How far away was it? How long before Marvin got bored of Leon’s chest and decided to finally sign his death warrant?

Everything felt tight. He hissed when teeth scraped along his nipple, the slow suck and rough tongue uncomfortable and soothing all at once.

God it was weird. His dick was still hard, chest tense, and his limbs would _not_ move. It was like being paralysed.

The steps came closer. His chest tingled, one arm dead from Marvin’s weight. Leon felt like he was covered in molasses, thick and heavy.

It was eerily calm. So calm that he barely noticed when his muscles relaxed, when the sucks slowed, when everything was strange and still. Even the footsteps had stopped.

Leon sat up, and Marvin didn’t move. He didn’t do anything. He had flopped over, limp and still.

Marvin was dead.

His face was slack and peaceful, mouth open like he’d fallen asleep at his desk, and he was dead.

He was dead.

Leon trembled. Moved his hand over his face, turning it away so his empty eyes weren’t watching him, and took stock of the situation. He was shirtless and Marvin was dead and he didn’t know why.

Leon looked down at his chest, shining and red where Marvin’s mouth had been on it. There was blood. Pale and diluted, from sweat and spittle- but aside from a few indents into his skin, no evidence that it was his blood. He hadn’t been bitten.

He smoothed his fingers over the hickey, wincing at the sensitivity built up there. He brushed his nipple, like pressing needles into his flesh, and gasped.

On his fingers, there was something white. Not spit. Definitely not blood. And unless he or Marvin had developed some kind of super projectile semen without noticing the orgasm or sudden trouser failure, it definitely wasn’t cum.

Leon stared at it. He hadn’t. He couldn’t have.

But it was there, on his fingers, beading up out of his nipple. Milk. Milk that Marvin had been suckling. Milk that, as far as Leon could see, blissed out the zombie so much that he died.

That wasn’t normal. He was so caught up staring that by the time he heard the steps again- loud, like they were in the same room- it was too late.

The Tyrant’s shadow loomed over him. He saw the leather shoes and cuffs of his pants gaze trailing up until Leon craned his neck to see his head, haloed by the cheap, fluorescent lights.

This time, he didn’t have a vest to grab. The Tyrant’s enormous hand closed around his neck, lifting him up like he was a toy. The Tyrant pressed his nose into his chest and Leon squeaked, sensitive and dripping in more ways than one.

 _Fuck_ , this guy was cold. Marvin had at least had some lingering warmth, but the Tyrant was like a brick in winter. He sniffed around Leon’s chest, and even as Leon was choking, his idiot, stupid, _horny_ brain managed to send all its attention right to his dick. _Again._

He scratched at the Tyrant’s gloves. Erotic asphyxiation was perhaps not the worst way to die in a zombie apocalypse, but it was by far the most embarrassing.

Something cold and wet licked curiously at his nipple. Leon let out a choked little gasp that might have been meant as a scream.

The Tyrant’s other hand clamped over his arm, the other finally freeing his throat and letting him suck in sweet, sweet air. His other hand squished Leon’s other arm, clamping them together. They were tight around his ribs, but compared to the choking grasp before, it was wonderful. Generous, even.

The Tyrant turned Leon around so that he was facing forwards, and started walking. Started walking towards the corridors where the worst of the worst lay. Those snarling, sniffing monsters.

Leon’s faculties came back to him, and he started squawking. Kicking out, yelling, trying to elbow his way out of the Tyrant’s grip- nevermind that he would alert the lickers, bringing all their wrath upon him, as long as they had to go through the Tyrant first he had at least _some_ hope for escape. He had outrun the big guy before.

God, the last hour had been a weird nightmare.

The Tyrant tucked him against his chest and opened the door to the lickers very politely, as though half the building hadn’t been ripped apart by the undead. Leon went still. In the moonlight they were every inch a predator, muscles strangely ridged and teeth catching the light like a hundred pearly knives, all focused on him. There were two of them, heads up, like dogs scenting the air.

Scenting for him. Leon bit his lip to hold in a scream, trying to kick the Tyrant, who had him held out like an offering once more. He stopped a pace away from the lickers and their furious sniffing.

Leon froze. A curious tongue was drifting up his body, starting to slide over his cold, bruised skin. He shuddered as it ran over his belly, drawing a curious _skrrek_ before the Tyrant squeezed his arms and he fell still. It was almost reassuring. The other licker had crawled up onto the ceiling, drooling onto Leon’s head. Its tongue lolled out, joining its counterpart, sloppy. It licked his face and neck, going down his arms (and straight back up when the Tyrant- fuck, he needed a name, Leon couldn’t keep calling him The Tyrant, it sounded way too formal- growled at it).

One of the tongues slithered around his nipple, grunting with interest. Leon hissed. It was so hot against his chest and face, leaving a prickling trail that felt like little needles running against his skin. Their tongues were dextrous, almost like fingers, skittering across his skin. Probing over his soft nipples, drawing out little moans. The reassuring squeeze of Mr. X’s firm grip, holding him up.

Another tongue slid down his back, to the dimples of his spine and between his ass cheeks. Hot and wet around his hole, slipping past the tight muscles to sample whatever was inside. Leon clenched and the licker hissed, whipping his juicy ass with the tip of its tongue. Mr. X snorted at it, grabbing the tongue and _yanking_.

It spat at Mr. X, an awful noise and started scrambling at him. The other licker had started to squeeze. Tightness returned to his chest, even as the licker behind him pressed into his back, scratching at the Tyrant, ignoring Leon’s whimpers.

He couldn’t see a damn thing behind him, and the licker on his chest was starting to grumble unhappily. Moving its claws up to his legs, digging in ever so slightly- agitated. God, it really was like a dog. He needed to soothe it, and fast, before it decided to stop with the curiosity and start with the stabbing.

He couldn’t move his arms. Petting it would probably be a terrible idea anyway. The only thing he could do, with the ruckus at his back, was…squeeze his pecs together.

It had worked on Marvin, after all.

He tensed his chest, using the little wiggle room he had to squish his chest. Little drops of milk beaded up from his nipples. The licker made a curious _crrk_ and loosened its grip, tongue probing that soft nub. Leon could feel it vibrating, ever so slightly, like the licker was humming.

Mr. X grunted behind him and threw the other licker aside. Leon squeaked as Mr. X flopped onto the floor, moving Leon so that he was pinned to his chest by a thick arm around his waist. The other hand tapped the ground next to him.

Vibrations. The lickers perked up, aggression forgotten as they crept forwards. Leon could feel their boiling breath on his chest, edges of their sharp teeth pressing into his soft skin. God, it was turning into a pattern- first Marvin, clumsily teasing him before latching on and _dying_ , now the lickers, clicking curiously as they tasted the milk. Sniffing at Leon’s face and hair, absolutely disinterested in Mr. X, drawing warm trails over his skin. Leon was whimpering- there was no point in being quiet when they could already hear him, and he would be lying if he said that the tongues toying with his nipples weren’t stirring just a _bit_ of interest downstairs. Nevermind the Tyrant’s unyielding grip, squeezing him in a way that could have been reassuring, pinning his arms down and holding his thigh.

It was something out of a fantasy, and Leon was hard as hell. Hard enough that it drew the licker’s attention, one of them letting out a soft _crrk_ as it moved its face right to Leon’s crotch. Its face, which also had all of its teeth. Its very sharp, nasty teeth.

Leon’s fear-boner tented in his pants and twitched painfully when the licker licked his bulge. Mr. X squeezed him tight. Leon’s mouth dropped open- the other licker had spread its huge tongue across his chest, lapping at both nipples like it had found a delicious treat. The one at his crotch was hot, tongue damp on his pants, thick drool almost dripping through the fabric. Leon threw his head back against Mr. X’s chest, pleasantly solid and still.

The licker tried to dip its tongue past his pants. Clicking when it couldn’t reach its prize, until Mr. X let out a snort, lifted up Leon’s hips, and yanked them around his thighs.

The cold air was like a slap on the ass. His dick bobbed proudly, damp and sticky and covered in precum and licker spit. The licker purred over its prize, curling its tongue over Leon’s prone cock. Round and round it went, tip dragging over his balls- Leon could feel it tense and chitter happily, vibrations rattling through him when it reached his asshole. Slippery, hot, leaving pinpricks over his perineum and balls.

There was a thump as the other licker hit the ground, dead. Leon didn’t know whether to turn his awareness to the sudden, biting sensitivity of his nipples- like someone was dragging knives made of ice over his chest- or to keep focusing on the living licker, with its very sharp teeth, that were perilously close to his dick.

It seemed like a stupid question, the more he thought about it, and he stopped thinking about it when the licker shoved its tongue into his ass.

Leon screamed. The licker flinched.

_Crrk?!_

It wouldn’t be denied though. Mr. X’s hard hand on his hip kept him grounded, unable to squirm as the licker released his dick and set to exploring his hole properly- long, slow licks around the rim, gently inserting the tip like a curious finger. Leon had given up on being quiet. He whined as his rim stretched around the tongue, thicker and thicker, sliding in without pause. God, it felt like he was going to break around that muscle, as it twitched and moved inside him, rubbing against his walls. Fire inside him, ice around him, and the sturdy rock of a man forcing him to take it all. Its tongue rubbed against the sweet spot inside him, and Leon shrieked. His dick spurted miserably, cum lazily dripping out of the head- god, how on edge had he been? There was still a knot in his stomach, a tongue deep in his ass, cold weight on his belly.

He shivered. The licker trilled, tongue still flicking inside him, exploring him- making him wince when it rubbed his nerves, slow and careless.

His face was hot. His dick was still hard, the half-hearted orgasm doing nothing to release the tension, but now it _hurt_. His chest ached, his ass ached, his legs were going numb under Mr. X’s grip. There was still milk leaking out of his nipples.

Tears spilled, dripping down his cheeks as he started crying, quietly, while the licker tongue-fucked him. It was like being split in half, between the sharp oversensitive pain and stinging pleasure; a writhing organ in his ass and the steady grip on his waist. Overwhelming and delicious and disgusting.

He’d started yelling at some point, when the licker brushed his prostate, insistent, like it was coaxing noises from him. The station had melted away into the weight in his ass and cool air on his skin, heat pooled in his stomach.

He wanted some friction on his dick- he wanted the licker to fuck him harder- he wanted so many things.

Leon sobbed, back arching as best it could, thrusting uselessly into the air. His toes curled, tense and awful against the leather at his back, choking out pleas.

It still wasn’t enough. He needed friction and he didn’t want friction, cock sensitive but still needing more release- he needed the tongue out of his ass or deeper in his ass, he needed Mr. X to stop being so _still_ and start putting his hand around his dick.

His head lolled against Mr. X’s shoulder, sobs loud and echoing. The licker pulled out of him with a lewd _slurp_ , tonguing up his balls and dick, making Leon shudder. Up and up his belly it went, passing over Mr. X’s arm, finally settling it over his chest.

God Leon was tired of monsters playing with his tits. They were painfully numb, nipples erect and swollen from attention, little dribbles of milk running on his overstimulated skin. He was too hot, too cold, too everything.

The licker’s searing tongue and breath was a lash of the whip. He took heaving breaths, wincing, almost _squeaking_ as it lapped up the milk- Leon’s fucking magic milkshake. This was going to ruin nipple play for him, he was sure of it- though whether that was from pain, embarrassment or because no one was _ever_ going to live up to a prehensile tongued monster he wasn’t sure.

The licker was making soft, happy noises. Drooping, like a wilting flower ready to close for the final time.

Its weight flopped on him, dead and still warm. Leon panted. Hot. Too hot. It was dead but its teeth were still there, just nudging into him. Still dangerous. Still ready to bite.

Mr. X nudged it off him like a sleeping dog. Right. Mr. X. He was still pinned against Mr. X. Still unable to move.

And even if he could, he doubted that the extra seconds he’d need to pull up his pants would help him get away. God, Mr. X would literally break his ass if he decided to try.

Leon felt like a sex doll, fucked out, holes loose. His legs were splayed apart over Mr. X’s- thank fuck he didn’t seem to have a hard-on. Leon wasn’t sure he could take that.

 _But you’d probably like to try_ , thought the horny idiot that had replaced his sensible thoughts, _there’s no time like the present! Licker spit’s got you all lubed up-_

Leon smashed his thoughts into a brick wall. Mr. X seemed happy to hold him, and Leon took the moment to catch his breath. Right. Okay. He had two dead lickers and Marvin under his belt with…milk related kills. And now he hurt all over. He was mostly naked.

He sighed. Exhaustion rolled over him. Leon let his muscles relax, sinking into Mr. X. Awake or not, there wasn’t much he could do if Mr. X decided he wanted to be done with Leon and his magic milky tits.

Mr. X shifted, obligingly, so that Leon could get more comfortable. His grip had loosened, if only a little, and Leon almost managed to push himself up- at least enough so that his back was supported. All Leon could hear was his own panting, and an occasional sniffle.

He was absolutely useless. Trapped. Still dripping spit out of his ass, pooling beneath him. Pooling on to Mr. X’s pants, wet and gross.

He wrinkled his nose. Mr. X has taken his had off his hip and Leon could see the bruises already, his body mottled with purple and red. He’d made a real show of himself and he _looked_ it.

God, if only there were tapes. He’d be able to pay for the rest of his therapy with the money.

Mr. X was moving again, handling Leon like a ragdoll. Pulling his legs up to his chest, settling his massive arm around Leon’s thighs, free hand fidgeting with his own pants. Leon heard a zip and something alarmingly like a ‘twang’

Or, that’s what it sounded like in his head, because he could see Mr. X’s cock. Well, cock might’ve been an understatement. It was more of a third leg that Mr. X’s creators had attached to his groin as a joke, slapping some clay onto it until it was a fat, meaty dick. A really fat, meaty, mouth-watering dick. There was a bead of precum at the head.

His heart jumped into his throat. Mr. X’s thick fingers were collecting that licker drool that dribbled out of Leon’s hole, slicking it along his shaft before he fingered the rest inside. Leon whined at the fingers- he was still _slippery_ from the lickers, but he was still sensitive too. Clearly no one thought to teach the zombies about things like _refractory periods_.

But Mr. X didn’t care about that. He just kept sliding, in and out, calm and collected while Leon twitched and struggled. He clenched around the fingers, tried to push them out, anything to give him another five minutes of rest- his eyes were starting to close from exhaustion. He’d been fucked clean out by the licker, and even if his cock was rock solid, he didn’t feel like having _more_ attention. Another one of those shitty orgasms would kill him.

Mr. X pulled his fingers out with a soft pop. He lined Leon’s asshole up with the head of his prick and, with one smooth roll of the hips, started to push inside.

Leon tried to scream, but his voice had been replaced with the biggest fucking dick he’d ever seen straining past his rim, past his guts, all the way up into his throat. Or that’s what it _felt_ like- Mr. X couldn’t have been more than an inch or two inside, but Leon was sure it would pierce his whole body. That fat dick sliding firmly past his puffy, sore rim, swallowed by his greedy walls, any effort to push it out only drawing it in. It rubbed against his prostate, a merciless, heavy pressure that punched the air straight out of his lungs. He _sobbed_ , tears streaming down his face, precum dripping on his cock, and Mr. X all around him. He was crushed by the grip, thrust further into Mr. X’s chest as he started to _fuck_ him, properly fuck him. Each roll of the hips felt like his skeleton was being shattered, organs pushed out of the way so Mr. X could fuck him harder and harder, thrusts speeding up. His dick bobbed in the air, sadly, torn between crying for attention and shrinking away, balls tight, too sensitive for more.

Mr. X made the decision for him, and closed his massive hand over Leon’s prick. He shrieked, pleasure-pain shooting through him like he’d burnt himself on Mr. X’s hand. He cried out, trying to fuck into the Tyrant’s grip, trying to pull out, trying to do anything; cum, get away, anything- _anything_.

Even the horny part of his mind, the stupid bastard that had been encouraging all this, was reduced to mush- he couldn’t think. He couldn’t speak, the only thing in his head was _harder faster fuck me fuck me please_ as his ass clenched around the Tyrant’s cock. It was like his ass was trying to keep it inside, keep him nice and full and warm. Sweat dripped down his back, down his face, mingling with tears.

It was overwhelming. His nerves were alight, red raw, twisting together in a cacophony of sensation- Mr. X fucking him fast and hard, his hand rough, Leon so, so hot that his brain had _cooked_ and he was left useless, beef tenderised too late to be good.

Thrust! Thrust! Thrust!

His guts were aching. His head swam.

Mr. X grunted. His cock twitched inside Leon and he was cumming- god, he was cumming, filling Leon up like a water balloon. He was sure his stomach was going to be bulging. He was sure it would split apart. Mr. X was relentless.

He was still palming Leon’s cock too, sensitive. He screamed when he finally came, knot in his stomach unravelling and shooting streams of white out, body quivering, shaking, absolutely boneless in Mr. X’s grasp.

And Mr. X wasn’t done. He rubbed the head, watching Leon writhe around, jaw tight, a few final, sad sputters coming out. Leon felt like he was dying, stars floating in his vision as his world collapsed to his poor, spent dick and tight, uncomfortable ass.

The Tyrant rubbed the mess back over Leon’s dick, ignoring his whines, cum coating his bloated stomach. Every part of him was sticky, stiff and sweaty. The massive cock slipped out of his ass. Squeezing down lightly on his belly, delighting in the noises- Leon’s ass bubbled with thick, nasty cum. It landed on the ground with a splat. He picked it up with his fingers, holding them up to Leon’s mouth.

He shut his eyes and took them inside, salty and bitter on his tongue. Lapping and sucking at his fingers, tasting the cum, trying not to choke on them. Mr. X seemed pleased. He pulled his fingers out and dragged them over Leon’s chest, pinching his rosy nipples, relishing his groans.

There was still milk, leaking ever so slowly. Leon dozed in his grasp, occasionally opening his mouth when Mr. X wanted him to suck his fingers- sometimes cleaning off the cum, sometimes something sweet and tasty.

No wonder those monsters had liked his milk. He started shivering, chill settling in now that there was nothing else to warm him up- no searing lickers or enormous cock spreading him open. His asshole leaked, like it was letting out more of the warmth.

Jesus Christ, there was no way he was going to talk himself into normalcy now. He was filled with Tyrant cum, and licker spit. His ass was stretched open, belly still bulging. He was too tired to do anything except sit there, panting, with his eyes closed and mouth waiting.

Time ticked on. Mr. X eventually moved, putting Leon on the ground to pull off his coat. He wrapped it around Leon, lifting him back up, chest to his face.

Oh no.

His cold, cold lips closed around Leon’s nipples, kissing and suckling like a lover.

It was the final straw. Leon dropped forwards, nose smashing against the Tyrant’s head, and passed out.

 

When he woke up, it was warm. Pleasantly warm, especially with the weight pressing just on the side of uncomfortable onto his stomach and chest. He felt dazed, like waking up a hair to early in summer.

There was something wet on his chest. That was alright. It was still pleasant, sucking softly on him.

Wait.

Sucking.

The lickers- _Marvin-_ the Tyrant,

_The Tyrant._

Leon lifted his head.

Mr. X was on his chest, sucking lazily, like he was Leon’s long-time lover and not a collection of horrors made flesh. Leon didn’t know what to do- he wasn’t sensitive anymore- but he was _sure_ that the Tyrant had seen what happened to the lickers. What happened to Marvin.

Did everything here just want to die?

Mr. X pulled off, lips slightly swollen, and stared at Leon. There was a pause. Absolute silence between him and the monster. Leon still ached, legs and arms trembling, even after he’d had some rest. Mr. X didn’t seem like he was going to kill him, not anytime soon. And the main hall was empty and quiet.

Plus, he wasn’t on the ground. That was nice.

Leon closed his eyes and laid back down, body prone and pliant. Raccoon City was some sort of wild sexual nightmare and Leon couldn’t bring himself to care. Not right now.

Mr. X didn’t return to sucking immediately. He tapped Leon’s nose, ignoring his irritated grumble, and help something out.

A green herb, pinched between his fingers, hovering over Leon’s lips.

 _What a gentleman_ , thought the stupid part of Leon’s brain, as he parted his lips and took the earthy taste inside. Mr. X rumbled, pleased, and settled back onto his chest. His weight was soothing and he was warmer than the air, especially with his coat thrown over both of them, blocking out the world.

Leon sighed, feeling his chest prickle as Mr. X latched back on, sucking slow and happy. He let his eyes close.

God he was going to regret this in the morning. Dead weight was such a pain to move.


End file.
